


Looking through you

by Builder



Series: Jonestown [5]
Category: Jessica Jones (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Recreational Drug Use, Relationship(s), Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15582729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: A repository for my very short Jonestown one-shots





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @builder051

Jess almost drops her smoke in surprise when she hears the bedroom door open.  “I’m positive I locked that,” she slurs, stealing a glance over her shoulder.

“You did,” Nat replies.  

“You’re not respecting my privacy.”  Jess tries to pout, but it’s hard to arrange her expression into anything but dizzy grin.

“You’re smoking weed.”  Nat shakes her head.

“I opened the window,” Jess offers, pointing at it.  “So you can’t complain about the fumes.”

“I’m not concerned about fumes.”  Nat plops down on the bed beside her.  “I’m more concerned about you.”

“I’m not the only one in this tower to do…illegal shit.”  A piece of ash falls onto the carpet.  “I’m pretty sure whatever gamma ray shit Banner was getting into wasn’t FDA approved.”

“Chill out.”  Nat elbows Jess in the ribs.  The joint drops from her grip.  Nat catches it and sticks it between her own lips.  “I don’t care.  But when you have the good stuff, you should share.”

“Ok, fine.”  Jess crosses her arms.  “But give it back.”

Nat exhales a puff of smoke.  She makes to hand it over, but pulls her hand back at the last second.

“Hey!”

“One condition, though,” Nat says.  “You have to talk to me.”

“I am talking to you.”  Jess snatches the joint and glares at Nat.

“I mean really talk.”  Nat lies back and stretches her arms out over her head.  “Like about why you’re sitting in the dark, smoking by yourself.”

Jess shrugs.  She reclines too and sends a lungful of smoke up to the ceiling.  “Keeps the voices away.”

“Hm,” Nat muses.  “Which ones?”

“You know.  The ones you’ve hurt.  The ones you haven’t hurt yet.”  She turns her head away.  “The ones who’ve hurt you.”

There’s a beat of silence.  “Yeah,” Nat finally says.  She takes the blunt for another puff.

“I still need that,” Jess mutters, swiping her fist under her eyes.

“I know,” Nat says.  “I’ll give it back in a minute.”


	2. Jess should've known better

Jess should’ve known better than to lie down when she’s this drunk.  She’d have been better off sleeping with her arms folded over the toilet seat, or in her padded desk chair with the trash can in her lap.  But Nat’s warm and tipsy, and that makes her just right for spooning.  It’s too bad that being this drunk also makes her a slave to lust over logic.  They fall side by side into Jess’s bed, kiss a few times, and drift off to sleep.  

The bliss is short-lived, as Jess kows it will be.  She’s sick before she even wakes up, her foggy dream turning to snakes in her stomach as whiskey and acid climb up her throat and spill all over the pillowcase.  She vomits again and opens her eyes, scrambling for the edge of the bed and desperately hoping to make a clean getaway.

But it’s too late.  It’s already everywhere.  Dripping loudly onto the floor.  Turning cold on her hands.  Staying warm inside her bra.  

“Fuck,” Jess mutters, throwing back the quilt more violently than she means to.  But she’s still nauseous, and Nat will forgive her.  Hopefully.

“What’s wrong?”  Nat’s sleepy mumble floats up, then the sound of a hand slapping against something wet.  “Oh, shit.”  

Jess is already tripping into the bathroom as the mattress groans and Nat’s feet pad across the hardwood, gracefully dodging the landmines of vomit and discarded clothes.  She gently gathers Jess’s hair back at the nape of her neck and pats between her shoulder blades as she heaves over the toilet.  

It must be a cruel joke of fate, because Jess is empty now, her raw throat refusing to give up even strings of mucous and bile.  Her mouth feels like the scorched terrain of a desert, dry and burning, her lips tingling with what’s left of the drunkenness.  

“Sorry,” Jess mutters, wiping her mouth on the inside of her elbow, the cleanest bit of her she can find.  “I’m really…”  She swallows hard.  “Just… you should… go back to your room.”

“Hey.”  Nat rubs her shoulder.  

“God, I knew this would happen.  Just go back to bed–”

“Hey, stop.”  Nat’s voice is quiet, but firm.  “Stop, ok?”  She grabs a washcloth from the neat stack on the back of the toilet and sponges off Jess’s chin.  “Let’s get you into something clean, then you can lie down in my bed.  I’ll get the sheets in the laundry, then I’ll be right there.”

“I don’t want you to bother with it,” Jess slurs, wondering how it’s possible to still be this nauseated when she’s completely empty.  

“I know you don’t,” Nat says, unruffled.  “But I get to choose, ok?”

Jess sighs.  “You make shitty choices.”

Nat presses a kiss to her forehead, then pulls back enough to look into Jess’s slightly unfocused eyes.  “No, I don’t.  And I don’t think you do, either.”


End file.
